This man that I speak of as being, my “main man”, “my guy”, the one I caught feelings for; well, I got pregnant by him. I must admit that I knew I was in la la land, imagining the relationship we could have, the care and tenderness with which we would raise our child together. I knew it was a joke, but I let myself believe it anyways. You see, I wasn’t the only woman he was involved with; there was an ex-girlfriend, myself, another woman who truly believes she was/is his girlfriend, and you know, a few strays here and there. The other problem was that this man is someone I consider to be a close friend. He had been there for me through so much; I suppose I can use the cheesy expression of “he’d been my rock”. He had (and still has) all those women in his life, and for some reason, I thought that maybe I was special to him somehow. It was also difficult for me because while I had deep feelings for him as a lover, I also served in the capacity of close friend, classmate, and business associate, and I am the type of person who compartmentalizes all of those roles. We could be having a problem on a personal level, but if we needed to work together professionally, we would be flawless! No sign of tension, whatsoever. I loved him. I know it was stupid of me to think that we would ever be something. I’ve found that sometimes its better to love someone from a afar.

Yet, there I was pregnant. Terrified, humiliated, and grasping for some glimmer of hope that he would want me. Want us. Want us to be a family. What hurts the most though, is that he lives with the young woman who believes she’s his girlfriend and she found out I was pregnant. Then the ex found out I was pregnant. And I found out my baby was anencephalic. And here I am in the spotlight, considered pathetic, manipulating, and stealing their man. I was devastated. Once a side chick, always a side chick. I was in a position where I had to play the scandalous lover, the practical friend to the man, and the emotional protective woman dealing with a pregnancy gone wrong. On one hand as a friend, I felt bad for this man, I felt I had put him in a position where he had nothing but drama to deal with, and at the same time I was angry that he didn’t choose me.

But what makes me any different from these other women? Nothing really. I tell him that I love him. They do too. I say I truly care. They do too. I know exactly how to blow his mind in bed. Apparently he likes something they do too. I think the only thing that sets us apart is that I compartmentalize my roles. The lines don’t blur for me. When I gets texts from his other women regarding my pregnancy, how I’m just his B****, how I’m pathetic, manipulating, I ask him how he wants me to handle it. I say “Friendship first…” But it frustrates me. Women dictating his life, changing him for the worse, and who am I?